Hardcastle's Red Glare
by owlcroft
Summary: It's the Fourth of July; where are the fireworks?


A/N: A response to the Fourth of July challenge. Thanks to those who pushed me into writing in the first place. It's all _your _fault!

Hardcastle's Red Glare

by

Owlcroft

McCormick opened the fridge door and inspected the cold cuts. "Enough salami," he muttered, "bologna, turkey, but what about ham?" He busied himself with extracting the various meats and condiments for sandwiches, then snapped his fingers, deposited the load of food on the counter, and opened the door of the cabinet above. He grabbed a jar of pickles, one of green olives, and a large bag of pretzels.

"We could just eat here and _then _go down to the beach." Hardcastle examined the rapidly-forming buffet on the table. "Or just watch from up here."

"Well, no, see, I kinda invited a few people to stop by and watch the fireworks with us." Mark studiously spread mustard on bread. "'Course they probably could've seen some right here in the kitchen." He peeped up at the retired judge from under his brows. Seeing no immediate sign of a lit fuse, he grinned and continued his sandwich-making.

The judge pushed out his lower lip and started folding paper towels in a studied manner. "'A few people', huh?" he said mildly. "And just who are those 'few people'?"

McCormick shrugged and focussed on his sandwich-making, industriously slathering more mustard. "Oh, just some of the folks we've met on the beach before. You know, people who hang out down there. I figured it's always more fun to celebrate the Fourth with a group of people, and these guys were going to be there anyway, and they're bringing some hibachis for hot dogs and corn on the cob, so I figured we'd take some sandwiches and stuff. Hey –" he interrupted himself. "Hand me that, wouldja?" He pointed to the head of iceberg lettuce and then went right on with the explanatory monologue. "And since we live up here, it's easier for us to do the stuff that doesn't pack well, I mean, since we've got a fridge and all." He reached for the jar of mayonnaise. "Anyway, you said you used to take food down to the kids on the beach all those years ago, at least, your wife did, so I figured this was a good opportunity to get that tradition going again, and what better time than July Fourth? What time is it, anyway?"

Hardcastle, somewhat bemused, but starting to sizzle, opened his mouth to retort, but got no chance.

"It's almost six! Hey, lend a hand, will ya, Hardcase? I gotta get the sandwiches done here, so why don't you get those plastic things – you know, to pack the pickles and stuff in. The fireworks start at nine, right? And we want plenty of time for the food first." Mark licked mayo off his thumb and stretched out an arm for the roll of waxed paper. "Maybe we shoulda done egg salad, too. That would've been good, but too late now. Stick those paper towels in that paper bag over there –"

"Hold it!" The judge held up a hand, palm out. "Are you talking about Traz and Donner and Blitzen or whoever those guys are? Those –" he waved the hand toward the ocean, "surfer guys? _Them_?"

"Well, yeah," McCormick answered with an expression of total innocence.

Hardcastle stared at him for a moment, then said grimly, "_My _food, on what was _my _beach, to those ... those ... _dudes_? You're fixing up food to take to the same people who went to court to get _my _property declared open to the public? The same scatty, under-dressed teenagers who can't speak proper English and don't even know what a necktie is? _Those guys_?

Mark nodded, then quirked a knowing smile. "Yep," he said simply.

"Well, I am super-stoked. Who's bringing the nectar?" Hardcastle slapped his hands together and grinned. "That is a totally rad idea, McCormick!"

Mark grinned back at him. "You sure it's cowabunga with you, Judge?" His grin lessened just a little. "I mean, I know how tough it was for you – the whole situation with the beach and all, but they really have been taking good care of the place and they're okay kids, ya know."

The judge shrugged, still smiling. "I know, and it's a great idea." He reached for the paper grocery bag and piled paper towels inside, then started opening pickle and olive jars. "Nancy woulda been down there already with twice this much food. _And _a coupla pies or a few dozen cookies."

"Those are right here." McCormick pulled open a cabinet. "I figure everybody likes Chocolate Chippies, so I got four bags." He piled cookies onto the countertop and glanced over at the judge. "So, fireworks off the coast and not here in the kitchen?"

Hardcastle shook his head and dumped pickles into a container. "It's totally tubular," he said.


End file.
